Agents: Untitled
by Overlord Mordax
Summary: Greer is having nightmares and Jones is having issues; meanwhile the rebels give Yami the choice.


A/N: This being part of a series you should probably read the rest of it first. You should read all of them but if you're feeling lazy 'Agents' and 'Green Eyes' are probably the two most important to have read before this, and maybe 'You May Dream'.  
  
Disclaimer: The Matrix belongs to the Wachowskis and Warner Bros. Stef Mimosa belongs to Stormhawk. Greer belongs to me. Yami and Maiyumi originally created by Rogue McAllister, used with permission. Neither Neopets nor Mario Bros belong to me.  
  
Agents: Untitled  
  
By Overlord Mordax  
  
Greer blocked the only possible escape route for a young group of rebels. Requiring another gun and aiming at the boy in the lead, he meditated briefly on the fact that he hadn't yet encountered any old rebels, but then, there weren't any old agent recruits either. He fired and the rebel went down. Only one left.  
  
"No!" the remaining rebel, a female, cried out over her fallen friend. "You bastard!" She and shot at Greer in fury, but he dodged the bullets easily.  
  
He smirked cockily. It was strange how soon encounters like this had become routine. They were fighting in what remained of the hallway of a college campus that he and his partner Tom Carlin had been assigned to patrol that week. Things had gotten interesting when Greer's sixth sense had overheard the rebels confirming a meeting with a potential. That same potential was staining the carpet at the moment as were two more rebels, but so was Carlin.  
  
Abandoning her now empty weapon the young woman lunged at the agent recruit, knocking him against the wall, which cracked and crumbled behind him; bits of plaster rained down on the floor. Blocking an angry punch Greer grabbed her wrist, swung her around and pinned her where he had been.  
  
"And what's your name?" he purred with a grin, holding her wrists tight.  
  
"Juno," she growled, jumping up and mule kicking him in the chest.  
  
He grunted, flying across the hall and into the other wall, but he hadn't lost his grip on the rebel and she came with him. He recovered quickly and threw her to the floor, standing and pressing his boot to her chest in one fluid motion. He looked down and aimed his handgun at her.  
  
"Any last words Juno?"  
  
She screeched and tried to force herself up, but he held her down.  
  
"Too late." He fired.  
  
He surveyed the mess that had been a hallway. There were quite a few bodies strewn about, six to be precise. He shook his head and put to fingers to his earpiece.  
  
"Send a cleanup crew to Holt University, Andrews building; the third basement corridor." There was no need for him to wait for a reply, cleanup crews were standard procedure.  
  
He left the wrecked hallway and walked out onto the campus. It was a cool, gray day and a few drops of rain splattered on Greer's sunglasses and broad shoulders as he headed to the parking lot. He could have required an umbrella, but he didn't really think it was necessary. Parked next to a black jeep was Greer's motorcycle. Since recruits couldn't shift they had to use other methods of transport, the jeep had been Carlin's; he wouldn't need it anymore so Greer required it away. He got on his bike, midnight blue and silver, streamlined and looking very sci-fi. He liked it, a lot. Making sure no one was looking he required himself a helmet, blue with indigo flames, revved the engine and sped off.  
  
***  
  
Jones was waiting for Greer when he got back to the Agency. The agent was standing with his arms crossed; he watched the young man require himself seamlessly from his street-clothes to his uniform. The trick was just another subtle reminder of his uncommon expertise, most recruits never mastered it and continued to physically don and doff their clothing for the entirety of their typically brief lives.  
  
"That is the fifth partner you have outlived this month, Greer," Jones informed him.  
  
The recruit nodded. "Is this a problem, Agent Jones?"  
  
"No, simply a fact." He paused. "If there is nothing else that requires your immediate attention I would like to see you in my office."  
  
He raised a heavy eyebrow and then shrugged. "Alright."  
  
Jones nodded and turned walking down the corridor he noticed that Greer, a pace behind him, had heavier footsteps than he did. It was a barely perceptible and unimportant fact, but he filed the small fact in the back of him memory just the same.  
  
"Is it about my sense?" Greer asked. "I have not been experiencing any problems."  
  
He shook his head. Two weeks ago the recruit had detailed in his own words the entirety of his experience with his strange perception of telephonic signals, the buzzing in the back of his mind, his breakdown and the consequential realization of what the 'buzzing' was and the limits of his ability to 'hear'. Jones had then tested these limits, which seemed to have expanded. Greer had told him that he could only 'hear' for fifty miles, but during the test he had managed sixty-five. This troubled Jones for some as yet vague reason.  
  
But this wasn't what he wanted to talk to Greer about.  
  
"No," he replied, opening the door to his office and entering. The room was hexagonal and rather tightly cramped, so Jones required away his desk for the time being and replaced it with a second chair and a smaller table. He situated himself in his own black, swiveling chair removing his sunglasses and placing them on his desk as he always did in his own office and watched Greer sit down.  
  
"Then what is it?"  
  
The agent attempted to determine the best way to phrase his concern. It was Brown's concern actually, and the opposite of what he usually complained of. Brown believed that Greer's infrequent social behavior was a symptom of some as yet subsurface mental disorder. He used the Edmund twins and the sixth sense that the recruit had in common with the two dead rebels to corroborate this theory. "You do not often engage in social behavior with the other recruits."  
  
Greer blinked. "Huh? I mean, could you explain that?"  
  
A smirk tugged the edge of Jones' lips; the recruit's lapses into human speech mannerisms were infrequent, and therefore somehow amusing to the agent, as was the fact that the young man always seemed a little embarrassed by these lapses.  
  
"Certainly. Agent Brown has brought to attention the fact that you do not regularly participate in social activities that the rest of the recruits do. He believes that this is sign that you are not mentally stable and therefore not suitable as a recruit. Bear in mind that these are the same social activities that Brown holds to be a sign of human weakness."  
  
The human paused and frowned, reasoning this information out. "So in other words, he thinks there's something wrong with me because I don't do things for him to be irritated about. Why does he care if I'm antisocial?"  
  
"Agent Brown does not like humans and so thinks he knows everything about them. Therefore when they act out of his perceived parameters he becomes agitated." Jones sighed. A large number of things made Brown agitated, actually.  
  
"I had noticed that," Greer nodded. "What caused him to dislike humans so much in the first place?"  
  
"He had an unpleasant experience involving an irrational human. I believe it created a singular response formation in his self preservation subroutine."  
  
The recruit stared at him. "He's scared of humans?" Greer demanded incredulously.  
  
"He perhaps would not phrase it that way, but it is... an apt description." Jones gave a slight smile; Greer was above many things, quite perceptive.  
  
"And what should I do? Ignore him?"  
  
"That would be one possible course of action. You might also attempt some personal interaction with the other recruits."  
  
The recruit frowned. "I'm afraid I don't find any of them to be adequate company, Agent Jones. And they, I think, are not overly fond of me either."  
  
"You have not fostered an image conducive to their liking, I would guess. What would you find to be adequate company Greer?"  
  
He shrugged noncommittally. "Someone who doesn't act like they came out of a television show aimed at the twelve to twenty-five set."  
  
Jones thought this over, making sense of the reference and noticing that Greer seemed much more relaxed in this setting than in others. "By that you mean that you find the other recruits to be immature and/or irrational?"  
  
"One of these 'social activities' is a card game involving wearing nothing but increasingly scanty and ridiculous undergarments they require for one another," he replied flatly.  
  
The agent nodded. He had indeed been aware of this particular pastime. "And you do not find this an acceptable activity?"  
  
"It's not my idea of entertainment."  
  
"What would you consider acceptable?"  
  
He shrugged again. "I don't know. Talking? Chess maybe? Something that involves at least half a brain?" He was starting to sound a little bitter now. "Most of them used to be outcasts, hackers, forum addicts, geeks, Goths, you'd think they'd do something more intelligent with their time." His voice rose towards the end of his rant, but only slightly.  
  
Jones regarded the young recruit pensively. Their was something rash lurking below Greer's cold exterior, something suppressed and waiting for a moment to escape, but what exactly that something was, the agent couldn't place.  
  
"But what does it matter anyway?" the raven-haired man asked. "I go out on leave and socialize, you know I do."  
  
A slight doubt stabbed through Jones. He knew, certainly, that Recruit Greer took his every leave to the club Monkey Boxing to speak with a young woman, Katrina. So far that was all the two had done, he and the woman had spoken on no less than six occasions, about everything ranging from videogames, to politics, philosophy and art to science and psychology.  
  
What Greer was unaware of was that 'Katrina' was in fact a construct manipulated remotely by none other than Jones himself. The topic therefore made the agent increasingly uneasy. So far the recruit had no idea as to the truth, but as Jones had often noted, Greer was usually quite discerning. What if something betrayed him and the reality of the situation was revealed?  
  
Jones nodded carefully. "I am aware as to your excursions and subsequent personal endeavors."  
  
"Then please, inform Brown of them." He sat back in the chair, pushing his sunglasses to the top of his head and gave Jones a plaintive look with his silvery-blue eyes.  
  
"I will endeavor to communicate you position to agent Brown," Jones told him.  
  
"Thank you." Greer ran his hand absently over a stray lock of hair that had escaped his ponytail. "Agent Jones, I am somewhat fatigued after this last battle-"  
  
The agent nodded benignly. "Certainly. You may be dismissed to return to you quarters and rest. I would not presume to undermine your efficiency."  
  
The recruit chuckled under his breath. "Again, my thanks Agent Jones." He stood, his glasses falling into place on his nose, and opened the door.  
  
"You are welcome," Jones murmured after Greer had left and shut the door in his wake. The agent returned his monitors to life with a requirement and focused his attention on them, distracting himself temporarily from any outside stimuli.  
  
***  
  
Walking calmly down one of the agency's many similar corridors Greer was preoccupied with much pondering. Jones' words, which had reminded him eerily of many a psychiatrist, both in manner and in content. Both Jones and Greer's former psychologist had spoken of his presumed 'antisocial behavior', with the same rational tone and pseudo concerned approach. The only difference was that while Doctor Kadawoki had obviously cared much more about how much money she could pry from her patient's parents than in his actual well being, Jones had seemed genuinely concerned.  
  
Which was ridiculous because agents didn't have emotions.  
  
Greer shook his head tiredly, the fatigue of the battle finally catching up with him. He needed to lie down, but was slightly apprehensive, as his sleep had been troubled of late. They were not nightmares per se that he had had for the past two nights so much as they were incoherent volleys of disconnected imagery and voices. Some of these were melancholy, some fierce and angry, others buoyantly elated, an ocean of confusion and chaos.  
  
He reached the recruits wing and turned the knob of his own quarters, which, like all the other recruits' looked like a rather Spartan dorm room. He closed the door and fell heavily onto his bed, elbows on his knees and face in his hands; he was surprised by his own momentary despondency.  
  
There's nothing wrong, he chided himself. Don't manufacture your own problems.  
  
Absentmindedly he kicked off his black shoes and pulled out his hair tie, ebony locks spilling around his chin, over his shoulders and into his face, obscuring his vision. He fell back onto the pillow and required his suit into a pair of plain, charcoal colored boxer shorts. He plucked his sunglasses off his nose and set them on the bedside table.  
  
He sighed and stared blearily up at the immaculate white ceiling, catching sight of the tip of his own beaklike nose at the edge of his vision. He closed his eyes, and within moments his mind had diffused into chaos.  
  
***  
  
In a rather prosaic apartment in the middle of the city, a small, round- faced young girl was awake long after her bedtime. She wandered sleepily into the living room to answer a phone that had rung so long it had awoken her.  
  
"Hullo?" she asked into the receiver, stifling a yawn.  
  
For a moment there was silence on the other end of the phone but then the wailing sound of a dialing modem startled the child so badly she squeaked and dropped it to the floor.  
  
Muffled wails issued forth mingling unintelligibly with the Internet noise. Then the dialing stopped and the words could be made out.  
  
"Is anyone there?! Is ANYONE there? They can't- they never! I won't!! Take it away take it AWAY! Jo-"  
  
The phone went dead. The girl stared down at it in horror.  
  
Someone turned a key in the lock of the front door. The girl screamed again and spun around to face the noise as the door opened.  
  
Framed in the halogen light of the hallway a young woman of average height stood, holding a purse and a shopping bag, black and red hair framing her pouting face.  
  
"'Yumi baby? How come you're up so late?" she asked hurrying in and closing the door. She set the bag down. "Did you have a nightmare?"  
  
Maiyumi shook her head. "Nu-uh. S'mbody called." She pointed to the receiver. "It was scary, they screamed a lot."  
  
The woman hurried over and embraced her little sister. "Shh, it's okay," she whispered comfortingly. "C'mon, I'll put ya to bed."  
  
Maiyumi nodded as her sister righted the telephone.  
  
"Thank you Yami."  
  
"No problem kid." She scooped the brown-eyed girl into her arms.  
  
***  
  
Greer woke with a start, sitting up suddenly and violently in his bed, panting and trying to clear his head of the sporadic nightmare visions. An angry mob, someone shouting. He was fighting someone, there were too many. Water going down the drain, disconnected words flashing past his eyes, a child's voice, three flashes of color, red, blue, green, fighting again, and then something was breaking...  
  
He required a hand towel and wiped the sweat from his brow. He felt a murmur in the back of his mind and a flash-  
  
/two tickets to-/  
  
/ohhhhhh yeeeeesss!/  
  
/burglary in progress main and/  
  
/connecting to site/  
  
/so then I told him/  
  
Greer pulled himself out of the assault that had pulled him in. Alarm gripped him; he hadn't had a spontaneous episode like that sine the hospital, years ago. What did it mean? Was he losing control? But he couldn't be. He thought of going to see Jones. But wouldn't that prove that he was unstable? Was he unstable?  
  
No, it was just the nightmare; he rationalized, loosening my control momentarily. Everything's fine. There's nothing to worry about. He drew a deep breath of the sterile tasting air and rubbed his temples. Why should he be having nightmare in the first place? Was it fear that after the deaths of all his partners his own demise might soon catch up with him? He'd never feared death before, and somehow he didn't think he was afraid of it now.  
  
He wished there was someone he could talk to, someone to consol him besides the depths of his own troubled mind. He thought momentarily of Katrina, whom he had seen days before. The thought comforted him, but it wasn't the memory of her rather plain, oval face. It was instead the cadence of her voice, her small, hesitant laugh, and the way she cocked her head slightly whenever he said something that confused her that brought ease to the turmoil in his mind. These gestures were already familiar and the feeling that he'd seen her more recently than Thursday gave him pause.  
  
Was he in love with her? They never did more than speak and drink a little but the recruit felt very close to her, and in this instant he realized that he didn't even know her last name. He'd never asked for her phone number or address. He could run a search for her on the database though; a visual combined with her first name should turn up results. But he'd do that tomorrow.  
  
Idly Greer considered going back to sleep, but he deemed it useless for the moment at least. Even the thought of green-eyed Katrina couldn't completely banish the chaos of his dreams. Tired of his own musings the recruit fell back on an old diversion. He leaned back on the headboard of his bed and required a television and a NES game system. Holding the simple, rectangular controller he felt both his mind and body relax as he began the familiar gauntlet of the original Super Mario Bros. video game. Whimsically simulated music and sound effects accompanied him as he expertly jumped pits and destroyed enemies, gathered coins and came quickly to the end of the first level.  
  
'Thank you Mario, but you princess is in another castle.'  
  
***  
  
Hours after putting Maiyumi to bed Yami, bathed in the light of her computer monitor, chewed vengefully on a handful of salt less saltine crackers.  
  
"Damn you I want NEOPOINTS!" she cried, spraying crumbs at her screen. She wiped them off with a sleeve. "Ugh, can't you give me some money? You're the money tree for chrissake!" she cajoled her online game. "I need to feed my stupid Psibunny," she whined.  
  
She glared at the brightly colored on-line world of pets and owners. All her neo stocks had plummeted and she was having no luck with the games, and now even virtual charity was failing her.  
  
"Come ON!"  
  
A dialog box popped up in the middle of her screen. She had an instant message.  
  
[Yami?]  
  
[Yeah?] She replied, choking down a few more crackers and washing them back with a Pepsi.  
  
[Are you still up for tomorrow night?]  
  
Yami grinned; this was the message she'd been waiting for.  
  
[u bet, just tell me where] she typed hastily.  
  
[Fifth avenue, under the burnt out street light be there at quarter after nine.]  
  
She snorted. [u kidding me?]  
  
[No]  
  
[k. I'll b there. c u then :)]  
  
Now she just had to find a babysitter for 'Yumi.  
  
***  
  
[No matches found] the consol responded for the third time.  
  
Greer was beginning to get annoyed. He snatched the photo of Katrina out of the scanner. The second time the computer hadn't managed to find her he had thought perhaps she had for some reason given him a false name and so had run a search based on the image alone. But it still came up empty.  
  
What the hell was wrong? The database kept scarily complete files on every single person who was or in some cases had been, connected to the Matrix, and yet it couldn't find any information on this one girl; as though she didn't even exist. The system had to be malfunctioning somehow  
  
Well, he'd just have to ask somebody for a little help, that was all. He stood and marched out into the hallway, resisting the urge to slam the door behind him. Greer had fallen into a dreamless sleep early that morning after having beaten his game and now it was late afternoon. He hoped the agent he was going to see wasn't on assignment; it was the nature of the foe they dealt with, a culture with self-induced nocturnal habits that relegated most of their activities to the late afternoon at the earliest. Perhaps there was a certain dramatic element to this as well; there was something about cheerful morning sunshine that did not lend itself well to battle between rebels and agents.  
  
The recruit squared his shoulders slightly as he stood before the door and pushed his sunglasses up to rest on the top of his head. He knocked.  
  
"Just a minute," a voice called from inside, opening the door only a few seconds later. A woman with shoulder-length brown hair, dressed in agent attire appeared in front of him, holding a cup of coffee. "Oh, hello, Greer."  
  
"Good morning Stef," he replied ironically with a nod to the female agent. It had always struck him as slightly odd that there was only the one, and that she seemed at times much more human than her male counterparts. There was something of a mystery about Agent Mimosa. "May I come in?"  
  
"Of course," she said, stepping away from the doorway to let him into her office. She sat down at her computer. "What can I do for you?" she asked, taking a drink of her coffee.  
  
"You remember Katrina, don't you?" he asked. He had introduced the agent to his friend during an uneventful patrol at Monkey Boxing. Stef had claimed to be his sister, something Greer still felt vaguely amusing.  
  
"Yes," she replied after a slight pause. "What about her?" The agent set her drink down on the desk.  
  
"I tried to look up her file using a visual scan but nothing came up. It was really weird." He closed the door and leaned comfortably against it.  
  
"That is, odd," she admitted.  
  
"Have you ever had a problem finding anyone's file?"  
  
"Not that I can remember."  
  
"There has to be a one, right?" he asked.  
  
"There should be. Everyone in the matrix has a file." She rested her elbow on the desk and narrowly missed spilling her coffee.  
  
"That's what I thought. So do you have any advice?"  
  
The agent thought a moment. "I'd go see Agent Jones. He's good at that sort of thing... computers, file searches." She paused. "I'm sure he'll be able to tell you what's going on."  
  
Greer pursed his lips. Jones, yes, Jones should be able to tell him why her file wasn't coming up. After all, he worked with the mainframe morning noon and night. If anyone would know, he would.  
  
Greer nodded. "Thank you Stef."  
  
"Any time," she waved to him as he left the room, again nearly spilling her coffee. "And good luck!" she called after him.  
  
***  
  
Jones was monitoring a minor temporal anomaly. On a wall that displayed nothing but scrolling green code symbols meaningless to all but a few beings in the matrix tumbled downward to the floor. But there was one small patch where these symbols raced forward in comparison with the others while the rest of the world crept by at only a fraction of their pace.  
  
A smaller monitor to the left showed the location as it appeared to the inhabitants of the matrix. It was a small corner of a city park, the anomaly itself was only an approximate hundred meters in diameter, centering on a bench beneath green trees beside an old fountain. Two young humans were sitting there, a man and a woman. The man was tall and had short, dark brown hair; he was dressed in jeans and an expensive looking red sweater. The woman was smaller, with delicate, pale features and silvery blonde hair; she was wearing a blue dress. They were kissing.  
  
The two of them could sit there together for hours, Jones thought. And leave only moments after they had arrived. They will believe that it is what they feel for one another that made their time together 'seem' to last for so long.  
  
What was it like to be able to feel so strongly and so freely? Jones wished for a moment that he could trade places with one of the couple, for just a moment. He was sad that the anomaly would have to be corrected.  
  
They broke their kiss. The man reached into his pocket and produced a small box; he held it out to the woman. He was proposing to her. She looked surprised and delighted; she would accept, wouldn't she?  
  
She threw her arms around her fiancé.  
  
Someone knocked at the door.  
  
He required the screen blank.  
  
"Agent Jones?" a muffled voice called. It was Greer.  
  
Jones glanced at the blank screen. "Come in."  
  
The door opened. Greer stood there, he looked mildly upset and his suit slightly rumpled something Jones was unused to seeing, as the recruit normally took great care in his appearance.  
  
"Agent Jones," he greeted with a nod.  
  
"Recruit Greer," Jones returned the gesture. "Is something wrong?"  
  
"I think so. May I come in?" the young man seemed rather hesitant.  
  
"Certainly," the agent required a chair for his guest. "What is the problem?"  
  
The black haired man sat down and ran a hand through his hair in obvious frustration. His heavy brow was tense. "I've been trying to find a file but it keeps coming back without any results."  
  
"That is, unusual," Jones replied. "What type of file are you attempting to locate?"  
  
"A person. Someone I met on leave."  
  
The agent froze. Katrina, he was looking for Katrina, but Jones had never created a file for her. How could he have made such an oversight? Why hadn't he realized that Greer would eventually go looking for more information on the woman he had met?  
  
"Jones? Are you alright?"  
  
He shook himself. "Of course. Why would I not be? Whose file are you looking for?"  
  
"I do not know her full name. I ran a visual match-up search for her, but I kept coming back with nothing. As if she didn't exist."  
  
As if she didn't exist. The words echoed in the agent's mind. Was this guilt? Jones wondered. Do I feel guilty for deceiving him?  
  
"But that's impossible right? Her file has to be there."  
  
"I'm sure there is a logical explanation as to why it can not be located. Allow me to run the search for you once more and see what I can discover. Do you have the photograph?"  
  
Greer nodded and produced the picture from his jacket pocket. He reached over and Jones took it from him.  
  
"Thank you," he turned to the keyboard and fed the photo into the scanner. He tried to think quickly. What should he do? Should he tell Greer? If he didn't how would he continue the deception? Files detailed every aspect of a person, they were exceedingly thorough. He would not be able to fabricate one in less than several hours, let alone a few minutes.  
  
[No matches found]  
  
"You are correct, Greer, the mainframe cannot locate the file. That is most unusual."  
  
"Can you think of any possible reasons why this might be happening?"  
  
"It may be some type of glitch, they are not uncommon. The Matrix is not perfect."  
  
"Nothing's perfect," he shrugged. "I'll just have to ask Katrina about herself next time I see her."  
  
Jones winced inwardly.  
  
"You'll be able to correct the glitch eventually though," he asked.  
  
"Yes, I am certain I will."  
  
It looked as though Greer was about to get up and leave.  
  
"Recruit Greer," Jones began, "This woman, you... enjoy her company?"  
  
He nodded. "Yes, I do."  
  
"Tell me about her, if you will."  
  
The recruit seemed surprised. "Why?"  
  
"I would simply like to know what makes her superior companionship to that of you fellow recruits," the agent replied, recalling their conversation of the day before.  
  
Greer chuckled, a low, throaty sound. "There's no comparison. How am I supposed to describe it? She is subdued, but somehow very intense at the same time. My grandmother would say something about 'an old soul'" he chuckled again. "We agree on a lot of things, Katrina and I. Almost everything, actually."  
  
"Really? What is it you disagree on?"  
  
"The Question."  
  
Jones suppressed a smile. Of course, The Question.  
  
"What question?" he asked.  
  
"The Question of Life the Universe and Everything." He smirked. "I can't believe I'm telling you this, but just listen. She believes that human lives are lives searching for an answer to The Question and that the answer is the goal. I disagree. I think that it is the search that is important, not the answer we arrive at. It's an old philosophical puzzle, really."  
  
"And you agree to disagree?"  
  
"I think I'll bring her around to my point of view eventually." Greer grinned roguishly.  
  
"Perhaps," Jones mused. He paused wondering whether or not he should ask the next question; he braced himself. "This Katrina, do you love her?"  
  
Greer was taken aback. 'What?"  
  
"You speak of her fondly; I wish to know if you believe that you love her."  
  
"That is a very personal question agent Jones."  
  
"Your answer will not be held against you." Jones' eyes flickered over Greer's nervous form, watching him, holding metaphorical breath for the answer.  
  
The recruit was silent for a long moment.  
  
"I honestly don't know."  
  
The agent nodded, relaxing somewhat. He changed the topic. "When is your patrol scheduled for?"  
  
Greer smirked. "It hasn't been. No one wants to be assigned as my partner. They think I'm... bad luck."  
  
Jones allowed himself a similar expression. "An understandable, if perhaps superstitious fear, given the mortality rate of your partners, in contrast to your own."  
  
"I expect they'll start throwing salt over their left shoulders every time I cross their path," he joked.  
  
Jones recalled something. "Earlier this morning I intercepted a rebel communiqué. They are intending to 'free' a potential this evening. Would you care to assist me in preventing this in lieu of your regular patrol assignment?"  
  
"Yes," Greer replied at once. "But I thought you didn't participate in combat assignments?"  
  
"My skills are rarely needed in the field more than in this office. But it sometimes becomes...monotonous. So I take the occasional combat mission." Jones leaned back in his chair. Ordinarily he would have left such matters to Smith and Mimosa, or to Brown. But he wanted the chance to see Greer in the field personally. And sometimes he did feel the screens pressing claustrophobically in on him. "Then you will accompany me tonight?"  
  
"Of course, Agent Jones, it will be an honor to fight by your side," he gave an oriental bow; hands clasped and then snorted and chuckled at his own behavior.  
  
Jones gave him a quizzical look.  
  
"I'm sorry," he said, "I just had to."  
  
"No apology is necessary, you are human, and it was...rather humorous." Jones smiled.  
  
"Why thank you." He paused. "I meant it, too, though."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
He nodded. "What time is the meeting?"  
  
"Report here at nine o'clock this evening."  
  
"Alright, I'll see you then," Greer stood. "Until then Jones."  
  
"Until then."  
  
***  
  
Greer had been in the training room for over an hour, honing his combat skills for the evening's appointment. Whether or not the coming battle would be a true test of his skill hinged on many factors, the number of rebels, the importance of the potential and most importantly, the identity of those coming to claim that potential. There were many rebels and not all of them were Morpheus or Neo.  
  
A thin film of sweat covered the recruit's body as he carried out the strong, precise motions of an intricate, dance-like nature. He barked low, wordless syllables. Kiais, articulations of strength. He held a gun but he wasn't practicing his aim. Instead he held the weapon as the hilt of a sword, moving it in a series of slashes and thrusts, ancient samurai patterns, bushido.  
  
Both agents and rebels typically fought one of two ways, with the gun, a long-range weapon, or bare handed. But there were times when neither of those would give one the upper hand and Greer saw room for an intermediate.  
  
"Hoa!" He brought the gun up as if parrying an enemy strike and then in a liquid motion  
  
Require: gun becomes katana  
  
He arced the blade into a sharp downward slice, cutting an imagined foe in twain.  
  
"Hyah!"  
  
He stood motionless, not listening to the sounds of the other recruits training, instead paying attention to his heat beat and breathing. Both were steady.  
  
He admired his sword. This was the first time he had managed the transition so smoothly mid-motion. He would continue to train until he was confident he could do it consistently.  
  
"That is not a standard weapon, recruit Greer," said a controlled voice behind him.  
  
Greer didn't turn. "No it isn't, Agent Brown," he replied, cleaning non- existent blood from the katana with a flick of his wrist. Fluorescent lighting glinted off the blade.  
  
"Then why are you practicing with it?" he demanded authoritatively. "Guns have been proven much more effective weaponry than archaic blades."  
  
The recruit turned sharply to face his superior, his black ponytail swishing behind him, and his sunglasses flashing. "Not in all circumstances, agent." He paused. "The agency employs humans for the sole purpose of their creativity and adaptability, is that correct?"  
  
"That, is the argument," he agreed brusquely.  
  
"Then let me do my job, Agent Brown."  
  
"If you become a liability to this agency-" Brown threatened.  
  
Greer cut him off, looking down at the other man. "If I become a liability, agent, I will expect to be dealt with as all liabilities."  
  
"You speak above your place recruit," the agent all but snarled.  
  
"Forgive me Agent Brown, I'm afraid I'm only human," he smirked.  
  
"Yes, you are." The agent turned on his heel and stalked form the room.  
  
There were whispers between those other recruits who had heard the exchange. The star recruit wasn't so perfect now. Why was he provoking Agent Brown? Why was he provoking Agent Brown? How arrogant could you get?  
  
What had prompted Greer's impulsive attack on Brown? Even Greer himself wasn't sure. He had spoken in haste and in doing so made a worse enemy of Brown than before. Greer shook his head. What was done was done, and there was a certain satisfaction in the outcome of the verbal match.  
  
The recruit smiled and lifted his blade, which halfway up became a gun again and he started his exercises from the beginning.  
  
***  
  
On the Nebuchadnezzar the rebels were preparing to enter the matrix.  
  
"How's it look, Tank?" Morpheus asked the young man.  
  
"Pretty good captain. I haven't seen any agent activity anywhere near her," Tank grinned. They'd been more cautious lately, after all the recent treacheries. Cypher, Mimosa, Greer. No one wanted to show up to free a mind and be shot by the ingrate, or worse, to have a spy slip into their midst and feed the agents information.  
  
"Good," the older man replied. "Then we should go."  
  
"Aye sir."  
  
Morpheus nodded to Trinity and Neo, who had already positioned themselves in the chairs. They and only two others, Screech and Foxtail, would be accompanying him; the crew of the Neb wasn't as large as it had been to risk six or seven resistance fighters on one person.  
  
Morpheus sighed, situating himself into his chair. They were still freeing more minds than they had been in years previous, but the sharp increase they had experienced had dropped down by half. And it wasn't for lack of potential. That was what disturbed Morpheus, what disturbed his whole crew so deeply. What was wrong? What was wrong that while so many were ready to see the truth, what felt like so few were willing to accept it? Three people of the last ten had chosen the blue pill. Before them only one in all the time Morpheus had been giving people the Choice had done the same.  
  
And then there were the Recruits. It was the agent recruits that made Morpheus feel the most like a failure, even though he knew he had no control over them. He didn't understand what it was that made a person believe so blindly in that hideous deception that they would be willing to fight for it with their lives.  
  
"Ready Neo?" Tank asked, holding the plug.  
  
The One gave a nod of assent. Morpheus would wait until they had the all clear with girl. These days they couldn't be too careful. He would go then back into the false dream world with his team, hopefully he would return with one more.  
  
***  
  
"Thanks for watching her Nana," Yami smiled at her grandmother.  
  
The grey haired woman smiled back and hugged her. "Any time. You go out and have a good time with your friends. Maiyumi and me will have a great time here, won't we sweetheart?" she looked down at the little girl clutching her hand.  
  
"Uh-huh." She nodded.  
  
"You be good Maiyumi, and I'll make you something special for breakfast tomorrow."  
  
"Okay. Buh-bye Yami."  
  
The black and red haired girl hugged her little sister.  
  
***  
  
Jones opened the door before Greer had a chance to knock.  
  
"Am I late?" the recruit asked with a grin.  
  
"No. You are punctual."  
  
Greer wondered if Brown had mentioned anything to him about their 'exchange' earlier. He decided if Jones had, the agent would bring it up.  
  
"What's the name of their target?" Greer asked as Jones joined him in the hallway.  
  
"Yami Yameshita."  
  
The recruit raised an eyebrow. "You said, 'Yami', didn't you?"  
  
Jones nodded.  
  
"Average height, red streaks in black hair?" he asked.  
  
"Yes, are you acquainted with her?" the agent gave him a questioning look.  
  
Greer swore under his breath and ran a hand through his coarse hair. "Yes," he replied. He flicked the silver earring that dangled from his left ear. It was the bodies of two entwined serpents, and the head of a dragon with ruby eyes. "Let's just say I'm not sure she'll be happy to see me."  
  
Jones nodded in understanding. "The woman from the arcade."  
  
"Yeah." Greer had nearly beaten her fairly in Mortal Kombat, but she had cheated at the last second and thereby forfeited her bet. The earring. "She'll probably want it back."  
  
"Do you intend to give it back?" Greer could swear Jones was smirking.  
  
"What do you think?"  
  
"Come, we must arrive at the point before the rebels get to her."  
  
"What's the plan exactly?"  
  
"We will wait unnoticed until they arrive and then terminate them."  
  
"Works for me. So, how are we getting there?"  
  
Jones nodded.  
  
Suddenly they were standing not in a well-lit corridor in the agency, but beside a window in a long condemned apartment building. Jones had morphed into a homeless man who had made the place his residence.  
  
"Oh," Greer grinned awkwardly. "Right."  
  
Jones gestured for Greer to look out the widow. He saw, two stories below, the woman he remembered from the arcade encounter leaning against a burnt- out street lamp. She had her arms crossed and looked impatient.  
  
"What time are they coming?" Greer asked his partner in a hushed voice.  
  
"9:15, it is 9:12 now," the agent informed him. "You may want to step away from the window, in case she looks in this direction."  
  
Slightly embarrassed Greer moved into the shadows. "So, we wait."  
  
Jones nodded.  
  
"Had any luck with that glitch?"  
  
For a moment the agent seemed confused, but then answered. "I am, working on it."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
There was silence for a moment.  
  
"You had an encounter with Brown this afternoon." It wasn't a question.  
  
Greer winced. "He told you I suppose."  
  
"Yes, he was quite displeased by you behavior. Tell me, what prompted you to respond in such a manner?" The agent cocked his head slightly to the side.  
  
He shrugged fluidly. "I wasn't thinking I guess."  
  
"No? You do not generally act in an irrational manner. Doing so has only furthered Brown's suspicions of your fitness as a recruit." Jones looked him in the eye, lowering his sunglasses slightly.  
  
There he goes looking concerned again, Greer thought to himself. Damn.  
  
"I was thinking. I was thinking I wanted to prove to him I wasn't someone to push around," he admitted.  
  
"In the chain of command Agent Brown is your superior. "  
  
"I realize that," Greer nodded. There was something about the way the agent had phrased his statement. 'In the chain of command' he was Greer's superior. Where else?  
  
"It is dangerous to be on Agent Brown's 'bad side'," Jones warned him.  
  
The recruit smirked. "Thanks for the heads up. I'll try to keep it in mind."  
  
"You are valuable to the agency; I would not want unnecessary unpleasantness to come to you do to Brown's dislike of humans."  
  
Greer chuckled. "Well thanks Jones."  
  
There was the sound of a car pulling up in the street and the glare of headlights momentarily illuminated the dilapidated room.  
  
Jones nodded. "Let's go." The agent jumped out the window, shattering the glass.  
  
Greer leapt out after him landing beside the agent in a crouch in the moonlit street. Somebody screamed, it was Yami; the rebels already had their guns out.  
  
"Agents!" Morpheus called, signaling his rebels to open fire.  
  
Neo, who had by now pretty stopped bothering with guns leapt at Jones with an angry yell. He took the slender agent to the pavement as Greer rolled out of the way. He stood and drew his gun, but Jones would have to deal with the One himself for the moment, as Greer had other problems to deal with.  
  
A blonde rebel with black flames tattooed on his face was firing at him with a machine gun, Greer reacted instantly, his perception of time slowly as his reaction times sped and he dodged the speeding projectiles.  
  
"What the hell's going on?!" Yami demanded, shouting at Trinity. They had dived behind the car when the gunfire began.  
  
"There's no time, you have to come with me. Quickly, while they're busy," she grabbed the other young woman's shoulder.  
  
Yami wrenched herself away. "Shit no! Not until you tell me what the hell's going on here!"  
  
"There's no time! Come with me if you want to live!"  
  
Yami looked over her shoulder at the battle. "Fine. You better know what the hell you're doing."  
  
The woman nodded.  
  
The tattooed rebel was out of bullets. Now Greer stood, grinning and rushed him. He tried to dive out of the way but Greer grabbed his wrist and used the man's own momentum to swing him hard into the side of a building. The man reeled. Greer raised his gun.  
  
He felt the bullet whizzing towards him and moved just in time, it missed him by a hairbreadth and instead of its intended target the tattooed rebel was shot. A bloody hole opened in his chest he slid down the side of the building.  
  
"No! Screech!" It was another rebel.  
  
Greer twisted around to see the rebel he had missed before, a woman with fiery red hair.  
  
"You bastard!" she screamed, aiming and pulling the trigger five times in quick succession. Instead of simply dodging Greer leapt over the bullets and toward the woman, raising his gun and as she stumbled backwards trying to get out of his way, brought his katana down in an arc, parting the rebel's head from her body.  
  
He landed crouched and looked around for other enemies. His search found Neo and Jones trading blows by the side of the apartment building. He moved forward to aid his partner.  
  
"Get Yameshita!" Jones called, swinging the One into the crumbling brick of the condemned building. Neo sprang up again, and wrestled the agent around.  
  
Greer turned quickly to glance Trinity and Yami racing down the street. They had a very good head start. He took off after them, the gap quickly closing.  
  
"Shit!" Trinity heard the preternatural footfalls behind them. She stopped and whirled around. "Keep going!"  
  
"What?" Yami stopped and looked back. "You!!" She scowled, recognizing their pursuer.  
  
"Me," he stopped less than a meter between them.  
  
"I want my earring back."  
  
Trinity didn't stop to ask questions, just opened fire on the recruit.  
  
Greer raised his sword, swinging it lightning fast to deflect each of the bullets to a harmless trajectory.  
  
"God damn you traitor!" she growled. Throwing the empty gun to the ground and preparing to face him unarmed.  
  
"How the hell did he do that?!" Yami screeched.  
  
"I told you that you didn't play by the rules," Greer took a cocky step forward. He required the sword into a gun again, "I told you it would get you in trouble. You obviously didn't lis-"  
  
The bullet tore through his chest.  
  
***  
  
Anderson had wrestled Agent Jones' gun from him, cornered him into a position where he couldn't dodge and shot him. He tossed the old derelict's body aside, knowing he had only bought himself time and took off running. He could see Trinity at the end of the street, with the girl, and with the agent recruit.  
  
The 'recruit' the blasphemy against humanity was deflecting Trinity's bullets. The girl was obviously too terrified to be of any help. Anderson saw the smug figure advance on the two women. Anderson took a flying leap and shot at him in midair. The recruit couldn't dodge him. He staggered and sunk to the ground.  
  
"Neo!" Trinity exclaimed, relieved.  
  
He nodded to her, and prepared to finish the man who was a traitor to his species. But somebody knocked him down.  
  
It was Jones again, he'd found some human to take over. Once again agent and One rolled on the pavement trying to destroy one another, though it wasn't Smith the champion of the rebellion fought this time, just another agent. They were all the same.  
  
"Get her out of here!" Anderson growled, fighting to keep the upper hand. Immediately he heard the two women go running.  
  
***  
  
Jones struggled underneath the rebel trying to get free. Anderson had shot Greer, he could be dead already. Anger flared in the normally calm agent.  
  
"If you've killed him Anderson!" Jones snarled.  
  
"He deserves to die, as if you care," the One leered.  
  
The agent lashed out delivering a solid blow to the One's nose. Blood spurted, Anderson reeled significantly, clutching his broken nose and Jones was able to escape from his grip.  
  
He leapt up and grabbed Greer's body, requiring them instantly to the infirmary within the agency.  
  
"This recruit has been shot," Jones barked to the doctors. "You will not allow him to die!"  
  
***  
  
Yami glanced at the man in the corner who was holding a bloody rag to his nose. She was sitting in the confines of an old hotel, sitting facing a strange black man in odd sunglasses. She had just witnessed gun battle of scary proportions, seen the guy who had taken her earring do things that should have been impossible. Her heart had never beaten faster; blood was pounding in her ears. Yami Yameshita had never felt so alive.  
  
"Take the blue pill and it all goes away," the man was saying, holding out the two tablets. "You wake up and believe... whatever you want. You take the red pill and you stay in wonderland, and find out just how far the rabbit-hole really goes."  
  
Yami grinned and without hesitation, without thinking of her job, or her college finals, or her grandmother, or her little sister, reached out and took the red pill.  
  
***  
  
Greer came around from a bleary miasma into pain. Fire gripped his chest every time he took a rough, ragged gasp for breath. For a moment he didn't know where he was or what was going on, for a moment he didn't remember his months at the agency and he was hurt and afraid and alone.  
  
It was Jones voice that reminded him of where he was.  
  
"The bullet punctured your lung. It will hurt to breath for a while."  
  
The recruit's lids fluttered open slightly to see concerned green eyes looking down at him.  
  
"You are lucky to have survived," the agent told him. "Without expert medical attention you would not have. Had you received such attention any later than you did you would not have."  
  
The night's events came back to him. The rebels, Yami, and being shot. "It was Anderson," he muttered, the expense of breath causing him an extra shock of pain.  
  
Jones nodded.  
  
"They escaped?"  
  
"Yes. They freed Yameshita."  
  
"Damn," he coughed, wincing as lances of fire seemed to seer through his lungs.  
  
"Lie still," Jones commanded. "It has been three days since then and it will be many more until you are fully healed."  
  
"How long?"  
  
"That is uncertain."  
  
A thought struck the recruit. "You saved my life."  
  
"Yes." Something edged in the agent's voice, Greer didn't know what.  
  
"I failed. I should have died."  
  
"No," Jones said firmly. "You are a valuable recruit."  
  
"Bullshit," Greer coughed again. He felt dizzy and a bit nauseous. "Lot's of good recruits die. You should have gone after the rebels."  
  
"No," Jones said again and the recruit watched him do something strange, watched him remove the coiled earpiece he wore. The agent looked down at him with a concern and intensity that he hadn't seen before. Had he?  
  
"Recruit Vincent Greer, your life is worth more than the death of a single rebel, or many rebels. You are my friend."  
  
Greer stared at him in disbelief. "What?" he rasped. "But agents, don't- I thought you didn't-"  
  
"Have emotion?" Jones smiled poignantly. "Agent Brown would tell you that. The reality is that like you have said, nothing is perfect. Agents are not perfect. We are flawed. I am flawed."  
  
Greer couldn't think of a decent response to that.  
  
The agent continued. "But flaws may sometimes belie hidden strengths. Humans, who feel so much and so in contradiction can do many things that agents cannot." He paused. "You find little satisfaction in the friendship of your fellow recruits; will you accept the friendship of an agent, Greer?"  
  
"Gladly, Jones," he reached up and firmly took his hand. "Thank you for saving my life."  
  
"Gladly."  
  
The end...  
  
For now. 


End file.
